Royal Misery


I heard a knock on my bedroom door, I opened the door to find two guards standing in front of me.
“His majesty wants to see you,” one of them said. It’s not something new, his majesty can’t sleep some nights.
I didn’t even bother to change, I went with the guards in my nightgown.
I entered his majesty’s room to find him pacing, his hair looked disheveled from running his hands in it, his shirt was half unbuttoned.
“Finally,” he muttered.
I thought I knew what he wanted so I kissed him out of habit, and want.
He frowned into the kiss and started muttering “No, no,” absentmindedly. He led me to the bed and laid us both onto it, I kissed him one last time just to savor his taste, to get a chance to breathe him.
He laid his head on my chest and sobbed until he fell asleep, I ran my fingers through his hair until my fingers memorized every strand.
He slept like a baby and I stayed awake wondering how long will this last, how long will it take his majesty to get rid of his misery?
How many tears will stain my breasts?
How many days will I spend of him holding on to my waist, and me holding on to his hair?
When will his majesty heal?
He’s selfish in his misery but so am I.
How can I endure hearing him mutter “I love you’s” in his sleep and not know if they’re for me.
Are we cursed? Are we doomed?


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